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| I have a recurring thought. A daydream. Actually, I have many recurring daydreams. Some are really odd, actually of things that would have taken place in the past, had they occurred at all. There is not much more depressing than spending your time imagining outcomes of things far too gone to change.
This particular daydream (it may not even be a daydream, as much as an idea that has a few pictures thrown in), however, is for the future. I don’t know if it’s typical of guys, but it is for me. Future Jeff is walking his dogs with Future Jeff’s Wife. Interesting side note, the future dogs are very vivid in this dream, even down to breed and size (Weimeraner and Great Dane) but Future Jeff’s Wife is as non-descript as possible. No distinguishable facial features, nothing at all other than the fact that she is clearly female, married to me, and as far as I can tell has two arms, two legs, one head. So, she very much fits in with the ideal, without completing it.
It is also evident that we are very happy together, which is a good thing, as daydreams that were not happy would not bode well for my mental health, and would thus not be published like this. We are happy because we are in love with each other, in love with our jobs, in love with our home, in love with our lives. The daydream ends, every time, as we approach our house. It’s a very typical daydreamy house. Nice suburban, two story house, fence, cars in the driveway.
Sounds great, but it really isn’t. You see, I figure that daydreams are supposed to relate the desires and aspirations of the dreamer. But these are not my desires, not my aspirations. In fact aside from the first part (that I would like to one day own a few dogs, and walk them with the woman I love) this is not my dream. I don’t want to love talking about my job. My dream job involves spending all of my time with the homeless, the poor, the societal victim. Not exactly fun to talk about while strolling the park. Don’t get me wrong, I know I will enjoy my work because it is my desire, but not the “laugh about the fun I had at the office today” sort of work. I kind of hope that my job breaks my heart every day.
Also, I don’t really want to live in the suburbs. I won’t be upset if I do, I grew up in a suburb and love my hometown. However, if the suburbs are in my future, you won’t see me in Dennis the Menace’s (I struggled trying to choose between Dennis and Corey Matthews here) house. It’s just not my style, at least not right now.
Finally, I don’t know how, in my job, I’m going to be able to afford the big house, dogs, and family anyway. Social Justice crusaders do not typically top the Forbes’ list.
All of this without even mentioning the fact that I, at 23 and finally financially and emotionally secure, still can’t seem to gather the nerve to ask a girl out, let alone marry one. My imagination has problems with plot mechanics.
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| If I worked at Starbucks, and someone came to the counter and said "Soy Mocha Latte," I would have to fight the urge to say "No, you're not."
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| Let cowmonkey cheer you up.
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| Yesterday I attended: an auction (ten apple iMacs for a dollar), a garage sale, a horse show, a football game (in the luxury lounge) a party, a political rally, a coffee shop (had a blast, learned to play mancala), and the emergency room. I got flipped off by a little kid in a pink chevy truck, and I got to call the cops to bust up a fight in a bar parking lot (I was just driving by, not involved in either the bar or the fight.) It was a good day. (I also got a free hour-and-a-half long professional massage on Friday, but that's friday, not yesterday, so it doesn't count)
The last six weeks in church, I have preached on: dog-people, bear attacks, poo, dirty underwear, knife wounds, and dancing naked for the Lord. I love the Bible.
Things are looking up for Jeff.
Peace.
Still listening to the Psalters, by the way, Amazon still doesn't have them.
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| Anyone who has known me for any amount of time knows I love dogs.
I've never been without a dog in my house, having up to four at a
time. Always big, too. Goldens, black labs, boxers, bassett
hounds, and a 15 year old mutt named Player.
Currently residing at my house, along with Player and occasional visits
by my sister's dog, Jack, is a mean old turd of a pit bull/boxer named
Hamlet. It's my uncle's dog, and we're taking care of him.
The first week he was here he attacked Jack twice, sending him to the
hospital, and tried to make a run on Player, but was stopped.
I have decided to rehab the demon. He's never attacked a person,
so I felt pretty safe going into his pen the first time (we built him a
10 by 20 foot cage, to keep him away from the other residents).
Well, actually I was scared to death, but everything was OK.
Today, we started playing catch. And this dog is an
allstar. I got him a kong, and started tossing it at him, he
would catch it midair and then drop it about 15 feet from me. I
thought, OK, let's see what he's got. I threw a line drive as
hard as I could, and he stopped it dead in his jaws of doom.
Now he comes when I call, and I think I'm gonna like him. If he doesn't kill me.
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